


A Christmas Happenstance

by Only_1_Truth



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, M/M, Mostly Smut, Pureblood-human Draco Malfoy, Smut, Surprise - Harry is Slytherin!, Vampire Harry Potter, but only very slight, lots of smut but pre-relationship, mentioned racial bias, slight political content, supernatural creatures instead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 02:57:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5568169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Only_1_Truth/pseuds/Only_1_Truth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hogwarts School for the Gifted and Supernatural had classes year-round, but the dormitories emptied out regularly on holidays as if the students were suddenly becoming allergic to the walls.  Both humans and non-humans mingled freely in the surrounding town of Hogsmeade.  Draco Malfoy, however, isn't feeling in the mood after a rather spectacular break-up.  That is, until a certain classmate steps out of the elevator onto his floor, looking well-fucked... and ready for another round.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Christmas Happenstance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kazbaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kazbaby/gifts).



> Firstly, I must thank a friend for this - Kaz posted an absolutely delicious photo-manip of Daniel Radcliffe in which he looked fresh out of a club (posted below). Comments followed said post, regarding how 'well-fucked' he looked, and how he perhaps even looked like he had some glitter on him... and thus I was struck by a plotbunny that wouldn't let go. So this is a slightly late Christmas present to Kaz :3
> 
> Reminder: the photo is NOT MINE, and therefore should not be misused, but merely enjoyed for the beautiful thing that it is.

The Hogwarts School for the Gifted and Supernatural had classes year-round, but the dormitories emptied out regularly on holidays as if the students were suddenly becoming allergic to the walls.  The surrounding city of Hogsmeade was thus inundated by uni students interested in temporarily forgetting their classwork if not their names altogether, and pubs and clubs did a booming business.  With the Acceptance of Magical Creatures Act having passed almost a year ago (hence the addendum of ‘and Supernatural’ to Hogwarts’s name), the chaos of holiday breaks could be depended upon to reach all manner of unpredictable heights.  Were-creatures, Veela, Dryads, and even Vampires were ‘out’ now, and while there was still some stubborn minds who thought they should have stayed in whatever dark holes they’d come from, most people had accepted the increased diversity.  

Tonight, on Christmas Eve (a holiday celebrated by the religious and the non-religious, because school closed and pubs opened all the same), the four major dormitories - Slytherin House, Hufflepuff House, Ravenclaw House, and Gryffindor House, named after those who had donated large funds during Hogwarts’s building process - were multi-story ghost-towns.  Whole floors had become motes of silence, and for Draco in Slytherin House, that was perfectly all right.  

Most people wanted to be out partying the night long instead of haunting the dorms and studying, but most people hadn’t just been dumped rather publically by Astoria Greengrass.  Being human Purebloods did not, sadly, equal gloriously perfect relationships, no matter what the purist xenophobes said.

Thus disenchanted with the idea of finding any of his floormates (or any Housemates from other floors who might have heard Astoria’s shrieking at him), Draco haunted the deserted dorm, switching between homework that wasn’t due for weeks and Netflix.  The dormitories had strict rules against partying that were enforced by Argus Filch and others, but Draco felt like he could still hear the rowdiness of Christmas night at Hogsmeade through the walls, and at around eleven-thirty he stopped trying to write a paper on early Anglo-Saxon law and instead grab his room keys and a few dollars for the vending machine.  The vending machine here on fourth floor always seemed to be stocked with crap, so the blond-haired young man immediately detoured towards the lift.  On the way, he got a text on his phone from Blaise, showing a picture of Neville Longbottom presently getting whipped cream licked off him by some girl in an elf costume.  Draco immediately growled and snapped his phone shut, but not before he saw the text saying ~ _Dude, even Longbottom is having more fun than u_ ~  

Blaise was not improving Draco’s night.

Pale-grey eyes narrowed murderously and with absolutely zero thoughts of Christmas cheer on his mind, Draco was just about at the lift when it announced its arrival with a ding, doors sliding open immediately after.  The sight of the person exiting the lift made Draco pause involuntarily, eyes widening fractionally and going from venomously irritated to grudgingly approving.  Harry James Potter, ex-Gryffindor and presently the Wonderboy of Slytherin House, rarely went anywhere without attracting attention, so far as Draco’s recollection went.  Being born into a human Pureblood family, Harry probably would have made his way through school in a mediocre, forgettable fashion had he not managed to get turned into a Vampire just last year.  A Pureblood human voluntarily asking to be Turned was scandalous enough, but then Harry had to go and be the second human to actually _survive_ the bite in over two centuries.  It was possible that Tom Riddle and Harry Potter weren’t the only Turned Vamps in the world, but since most of Europe still rated supernatural beings as monsters or second-rate citizens, no one outside of the UK was stepping forward.  Ergo, Harry Potter was pretty fucking famous, and it didn’t hurt that he was gorgeous.

Potter definitely looked liked he’d been out on the town.  All dark hair and pale skin, eyes a vivid green found only in polished emerald or an emperor’s jade, no one with eyes would say he didn’t rock the stereotypical ‘Vampire look.’  Right now, that black hair was definitely mussed, just barely held back from his forehead with an artful amount of product, and his pupils were blown in a way that had nothing to do with the dormitory’s poor lighting and everything with a ‘Just been fucked’ sort of aura about him.  Draco found his own libido giving a pulse beneath his skin as his eyes traced their way along Harry’s lean frame, wrapped in a mockery of formal attire in a half-untucked white button-down, loosened tie, and open black jacket that hugged his frame.  If Potter had left the dorms dressed up nice, he hadn’t stayed that way long, and the bruised look to his mouth attested to that even as it drew Draco’s attention alluringly.  Arms propped on either of the open lift doors, Harry lounged with an effortless amount of poise that made Draco a bit jealous, because that was all Vampire.  

Half expecting to see Potter’s partner just putting himself to rights, Draco looked past Harry’s shoulder into the lift, but found it empty.  Whoever the infamous Harry Potter had just been shagging, he or she had gotten off already.  Probably in more ways than one.  Considering what a frustrating, boring night it had been for Draco, perhaps he could have been forgiven for getting a little hard in his pants at the sight.  He could also see the pentagram-stamp on the back of Potter’s right hand, the sign of the exclusive and incredibly risque Brimstone Club.  Draco hadn’t been there, if only because he held some lingering idea that his parents would have a heart-attack if they heard, and because Greengrass had turned up her nose at it staunchly.  Now, however, Draco felt interest stirring alongside jealousy even as he noted, amusingly, that Harry was covered in a fine dusting of glitter and had evidence of eyeliner around his eyes that made him look even more gloriously disheveled and inviting.  

“Got something to say, Malfoy?” Potter asked, but before Draco could get defensive, he saw that his classmate was smiling.  Smirking, really.  Harry was rolling one wrist idly where he still had his forearms propped against the doors, blocking the way lazily.  

Schooling his expression, Draco took just a few seconds to choose his words, and then stated frankly with a nod towards Potter’s glitter-smeared shoulders, “You’re taking this Vampire thing dangerously close to Stephanie Myers territory.”

Surprisingly, Potter didn’t get offended.  His smile actually broadened a bit, showing just the faintest hint of how his incisors were sharper than they should have been.  Laws restricted how and where Vampires fed - be they Turned or Born - but even so, Vampires weren’t tame creatures, and had the natural arsenal of predators.  Right now, however, Potter turned a slow, pointed look to himself.  “Are you saying I’m not allowed to sparkle?  That’s awfully mean of you, Malfoy.”  He stepped forward as he spoke, still inspecting himself as if he hadn’t noticed.

The lift doors was starting to close behind Potter, but the hallways were small, making it hard to get around him.  At least, that was Draco’s excuse for folding his arms delicately and holding his ground.  “Oh, I forget,” he continued to antagonize, because it was fun and easy, “You’re the Great Harry Potter.  You can do whatever the fuck you want.”  

Somehow, Harry managed to correctly interpret Draco’s snide tone, realizing that it was meant to sting but not to draw blood.  With Draco, there was always a fine line between being sincerely rude and playfully sharp, but few people actually noticed beyond his ever-tolerant mother and his equally sharp-tongued father.  Potter looked up, still smiling that idly dangerous smile and losing a sparkle or two as he gave his head a doglike shake.  “Jealous?” he asked, tone rough in a way that made Draco think that Potter had possibly had a cock down his throat recently.

“Hardly,” he retorted archly.

“Really?” Harry arched one brow, the combination of unkemptness and the detritus of an obviously wild party making him look undeniably delectable.  The shadow of eyeliner made his eyes strangely expressive, full of playfulness and teasing.  “Because by the look you were giving me just now as I got out off the lift, I think you are.”

A bit startled at being caught out, Draco scowled and shot back on autopilot, “You’re drunk, Potter.  Or high.”

Again, instead of getting annoyed, the other young man simply rolled with the punch, and in fact rolled his eyes towards the ceiling as he said in exasperation, “I sure hope so - on the former option, anyway.  It takes an awful lot to get that way now and I don’t think anyone told me that the fangs would come with this godawful tolerance, but I think I drank enough to drown a Hippogriff.”  It was getting hard for Draco to contain a tiny little grin, and this time he knew he got caught skating his eyes down Harry’s body when Potter glanced back down at him again.  As if just thinking of it, the Vamp asked, “Hey, if I can do anything I want, can I do _you_?”

It should have been insulting, but considering the circumstance (Draco being dead-bored, angry at his new ex, no one being around to judge him for trading innuendos and heated looks with the Goldenboy of Slytherin), Draco let his smile out a touch more, keeping it wry.  “You look like you’ve already had enough of that kind of thing,” he drawled, then couldn’t help but ask in his best unaffected tone, “Who _were_ you just shagging?  It shows, so don’t even try to deny it.”

Harry didn’t.  “Tom Riddle.  He’s got a nice cock and isn’t afraid to use it in public places like elevators.”  Clearly delighted in the shocked look that escaped across Draco’s face, Harry grinned broadly and strolled closer.  When he was nearly standing on Draco’s toes, he dropped his volume a bit so that the words just whispered in a roll of wine-and-mint-scented breath across his face, “Were you thinking of that just now, Malfoy?  Of me taking someone’s cock not a minute before that elevator door opened?  Do you want to know if anyone tried to get on while I was _getting off_?”

Draco’s breath caught and he swore he could feel his pupils dilating.  The interest that had been swimming in his blood began to pump southward, and he stopped thinking entirely about his previous plans of snacks on the next floor down.  

When Draco didn’t step back, Potter smiled just a tick wider.  It still didn’t quite show off his fangs like some Vamps were so good at, a reminder that he was fairly new to this, but when he ran an exploratory tongue over one incisor, Draco found his lips parting and his grey eyes following.  

“You’re probably right,” Harry went on, sounding distracted but only managing to look more fuckable as he shoved his jacket back to stuff his hands in his pockets.  “I think I probably have been fucked enough, because Riddle’s got this thing where he likes it hard and rough, and my arse isn’t thanking me for that.  But if you’re offering, Malfoy…”

“Who said I was offering?” Draco challenged with a slight baring of his own teeth, feeling a rush of adrenaline as he realized he was postering to a Vampire.  Despite being newly minted, it was a widely known fact that Potter was fast and strong - superhuman perks that came with the fangs, prizes for surviving the Bite.  He could do a lot of damage to a Pureblood like Draco, even if the law would absolutely crucify him for it later.  

Affecting a slightly haughty tone of his own, Harry tilted his head, kohled eyes looking out from under black, black lashes.  “Well, are you?  Because if you are, I’d be more than willing to rock your world.”

“That line is pathetically over-used, Potter.”

“Fine.  How about this: I’m here, you’re here, and if I’m not mistaken, we’re both incredibly horny.  The best answer to all of this would be for you to take me back to your room, and we can decide who tops when we get there.”

Standing nearly chest-to-chest like strutting roosters (or perhaps ‘strutting cocks’ really was the best word, considering Harry’s observations were one-hundred percent accurate for both of them), the two eye each other for a moment.  Just when it seemed the postering could only come to blows, Draco threw back in a voice that had gone from silky and refined to slightly husky and lower, “Fine.”

~^~

Turned Vampires weren’t quite as strong and fast as Born ones, but they also lacked the sensitivities and drawbacks of those who inherited the Vampiric traits: sensitivity to sun, an unavoidable hunger for blood.  Potter could walk in the sun without a care in the world, and reportedly only needed the occasional meal of blood to keep his diet balanced.  Still, even with only half a Born Vampire’s strength, Harry was still able to slam Draco into the door pretty hard after they fumbled their way through it and pushed it closed.  

Potter’s mouth and hands were everywhere.  He was surprisingly dexterous with his teeth, removing Draco’s lingering fear of having his mouth lacerated by kisses, and letting him enjoy the experience.  A no-strings-attached fuck was just what he needed.  Despite his apparent reticence, he had nothing against bottoming, and in fact liked it - from his admittedly small sampling size of male lovers.  Since he’d started dating Astoria a year and a half ago, he’d had only her as a partner.  Now, he felt only a burning fury at the thought of her name, and pulled at Harry’s shirt so that buttons popped off.  Harry laughed.  His own fingers dug into Draco’s tee just so they could both hear the fabric actually strain and rip under his unnatural strength.  

Clothing began to disappear with near-magical speed, hands becoming clumsy with desire even as bodies became supple to speed along the process.  No one was likely to come back before morning, and besides that, Draco lacked a roommate to worry about disturbing.  “How the hell…” Harry panted against the shell of Draco’s ear, running his hands up the pale-haired boy’s ribs even as he felt Draco’s fingernails scraping at his scapula, “...Did you swing a single room?”

Draco scoffed back as he dropped his hands to more important matters - namely, removing his trousers and pants before he went crazy from the simple act of being stuck in them, “It’s called connections, Potter.  Use your head - you were a Pureblood.  I know you must have had connections, too.”

“Parents died when I was a kid, remember?”

That managed to get through the haze of libido, and Draco blinked, frowning.  “Sorry,” he muttered.

The mood wasn’t lost, thankfully, as Potter took over for Draco’s slacking fingers and then shoved Draco’s trousers down in one rough shove.  “Don’t worry about it.  It’s old news.  I’d much rather be thinking about this…”  As if to emphasize his words, he got his hand into Draco’s pants, wrapping long, deft fingers around his cock and bringing it to full hardness with just a teasing squeeze.  Draco found himself gasping, head falling back against the door with a thunk.  “Liked that, did you?”

Still holding onto a modicum of self-respect and family pride, the Pureblood managed to shoot Harry a heavy-lidded glower, although he found himself appreciatively cataloguing the wild characteristics of Potter’s face: the smudged lined eyes, the kiss-pinked mouth, the bit of glitter that was smeared across his cheek as if by an intimate hand.  “If you’re going to fuck me, Potter,” Draco warned, voice a growl even as pleasure shot through it, “you’re going to do it on the bed or not at all.  I’m not going to wake up tomorrow thinking about how sore I am in all the wrong ways.”

“How about sore in all the right ways?” Harry asked back, breathless and impish, hips eagerly thrusting forward even if his trousers still hadn’t been removed.  They probably both looked a mess, half-dressed and horny as tom-cats.  

Potter’s Cheshire smile was infectious.  Draco returned it, sharp and vulpine.  “That I can live with.”  

With that verbalized form of acceptance lingering in the air, they tripped and stumbled their way from the door to the bed, Draco severely hampered by his trousers around his knees before he was toppled onto the bed and managed to kick the garments off.  Harry had let go of his cock by then, but the kissing that ensued just about made up for it until Potter got impatient with his own clothing.  Draco on his back, the Vampire kneeling astride his stomach, Harry reared back with a groan and a frustrated curse to fight with his shirt.  Now it was Draco’s turn to laugh (and likewise ignore Harry’s green-eyed glare) even as more skin was revealed.  It took a bit more wrestling to get them both entirely naked, and with the last of their clothing went the last of their caution or self-control.  Vamps (Born or Turned) had massively powerful immune systems, so the usual song-and-dance of finding a condom wasn’t even necessary, as Harry could neither give nor receive any disease if he decided to engage in casual sex with someone that he really didn’t know all that well.  Content in the fact that he wasn’t going to get sick, wouldn’t have to be alone on Christmas Eve, and very likely wouldn’t have a thought in his head about Greengrass by the end of the night, Draco relaxed with a sigh and opened his mouth to Harry’s slick, exploring tongue.  

Despite Harry being a new Vampire, he had a rather good handle on his strength.  He was definitely rough-handling Draco, but he must have been holding back, because once or twice the blond-haired youth won out against him as they grappled.  Draco’s pillow and discarded jeans were kicked off the bed as Harry was flipped over onto his back, letting Draco switch to the top but also grinning a lewd, wide grin as the bedside lamp shone some light on his Potter's exploits.  Sitting back, Draco couldn’t help but get a bit distracted by the teasing love-bites and bruises on Harry’s skin, and the used redness of his arse…

That level of distraction was apparently too much for Harry to resist, because then he was laughing brightly again and flipping them.  Draco became the focus of more of Harry’s superhuman strength and speed, finding his shoulder-blades pressed to the bed almost before he could blink.  Harry loomed over him, disheveled, wild, and stunning, his eyes smudged dark but the irises so brightly green.  He still looked fresh from the Brimstone Club, smelling like moving bodies and cologne, and had enough iridescence brushed across skin previously covered by clothes to indicate that he’d been a lot less dressed at one point.  

Harry lunged down and attacked Draco with his mouth, fingers tangling in pale hair and using his grip on the silken, ivory strands to better angle Draco’s head.  The kisses shared between them were messy, sloppy, and in fact noisy as they switched between laughing and growling.  In daily life Draco could be incredibly self-contained and levelheaded, traits he’d picked up from his parents.  That didn’t mean he was always like that, however, and pent-up energy and emotion sought release now as he grabbed and tugged, digging his fingertips into the curves of Harry’s ribs, scraping fingernails across his hips and lower back.  He _wanted_ , and considering the hardened cock rubbing against his, Harry wanted, too.  They were already thrusting messily against each other like, well, horny schoolboys, but Draco was coming inevitably to the decision that this wasn’t going to scratch the specific itch he had.  Scraping his fingernails roughly enough against Harry’s back to elicit a hiss - finally baring those fangs to their full extension, four pearly, almost delicate-looking Vampire canines - Draco panted when he got Harry’s attention, “Lube.  Top drawer next to the bed.”

Instead of calling Draco out on being bossy - which just about anyone Draco had ever slept with had done at least once - Harry merely pulled back, his expressions dazed for two blinks as lust got in the way of interpreting words.  Instead of back-talking, however, Potter was soon leaning over Draco and dragging open the suggested drawer to search hurriedly.  With more of Potter’s weight on top of him, and no more sucking, licking kisses to distract him for the moment, Draco thumped his head back against the bed with a groan.  “Hurry it up, Potter!”

“I am hurrying, god,” was the peeved reply, but when Harry came back again, there was a smirk curled behind his words.  Seeing the tiny grin as a challenge, Draco reached up a bold hand and undid the last hint of tidiness in Potter’s hair, making it look like an ebony crow’s-nest instead of any purposeful coif.  Potter snorted at him, expression turning into a momentary little snarl before he pushed himself back just enough to squirt lube onto his palm.

“For that, I’m not warming it up,” he stated while simultaneously sliding oiled fingertips down the back of Draco’s bent left leg, following it to the cleft of his arse.  Draco was sucking in a breath and letting out a startled curse even before Harry’s sentence finished, his hands wrapping around the Vampire’s shoulders tight enough to leave little bloodless dimples against the skin.

“Bastard,” Draco named him, glaring between slitted eyes before closing them again with a groan.  The lube was still not up to body-temperature, but Harry’s fingertip was circling his hole.  

Smiling that triumphant grin again, Potter returned gamely, “Prick.  There, are we fair now?”

“Keep teasing me and we’re sure as hell not,” was Draco’s opinion on the matter even as he folded his leg up higher, crazy for more and willing to give Harry as much access as possible.  “Stretch me already.”  To make sure that he got his point across, he dug his fingernails in again, and this time he really got the response he wanted: yes, Harry swore at him again, but he also shoved one finger in with one smooth push.  The lube made an obscene noise as it smoothed the way, but Draco still felt his back muscles clench and arch at the beautiful burn.  He let his hands drop away, no longer interested in making little half-moon dents in Harry’s still-glitter-speckled skin.  

“You like playing unfairly, don’t you?” Harry observed huskily, exploring with a finger while his free hand cupped Draco’s hipbone, leaning closer.  When Draco didn’t argue or even open his eyes, lost in sensation for a moment, Harry bent his head closer until his breath was escaping over Draco’s chest and collarbones.  “Well, how do you like it when someone plays a little bit rough back?”

It was probably meant as a threat, and the question as also probably rhetorical, but Draco pulled in a shaky breath and said clearly on the exhale, “Love it.  Unless you’d rather treat me like a flower.”

Draco was pretty sure he heard Potter mutter almost petulantly, “I can’t fuck a flower,” right before he sealed his lips to the skin just high of Draco’s nipple, sucking a bruise to the surface and also making Draco’s nerve-endings come alive.  What really made the Malfoy heir gasp, however, was when Harry pulled his lips back, moving his head a little, and then there was the most playful, delicate nip of teeth on Draco’s nipple.  The dark-haired young man was _using his fangs_ , and when Draco opened his eyes to see it, he felt a surge of excitement that nearly made him climax right there - thanks in part to the second and third finger that Harry pumped into him without warning.  Moaning open-mouthed now, Draco draped his arms around the backs of Harry’s shoulders, watching tiny scratches appear on his skin from the light scraping of tapered fangs - never breaking skin, but still sending tiny slivers of pain skidding across Draco’s skin.  Considering the scratching Harry was going to have from Draco, he was really being quite considerate, and the endorphins more than made up for any discomfort even as Harry lapped Draco’s nipple into his mouth and needled it gently.  

“Roll over,” Harry demanded, his own voice becoming wrecked with impatience now that Draco was so clearly in ecstasy.  It was a good tone for him.  

Although the idea raised Draco’s excitement to another level - because it meant that fingers would likely be replaced by a cock soon - Draco retorted without moving, “You just want a way to keep me from clawing at you.  If you don’t like it, you could just say so.”  It was a challenge, and Draco made that clear by tipping his chin back, even though he knew his pupils were blown and his mouth felt bruised from kissing.  

Instead of being put off by all of this, Harry just raised one eyebrow and replied, “I _would_ have said so, but one of the perks of being Turned is that I’m durable.  I won’t even have any marks by tomorrow.”  

Draco made a grumbling noise, irked at that fact, partially because he technically should have known that - but Potter was good with his hands, and his fingers in Draco’s arse were hitting all the right places, making it hard to think.  

“Something bothering you, Malfoy?” Harry teased, hearing the noise.  

“Since I’m already turning over,” the blond-haired boy replied primly, even as he moved, immediately missing the fullness in him when Harry’s hand withdrew, “the only thing that’s bothering me is that you’re all talk and no cock.”

 _That_ elicited a response that he was more than happy with.  

So far as Pureblood human families went, Draco’s was actually rather relaxed about non-humans, but even they were standoffish and still rather bigoted, and would have reacted pretty phobically to the idea of their son letting a Vampire into his bed.  It had been an utter scandal when people found out that Harry Potter, a Pureblood himself, had gone over to the supernatural side.  Now, Draco had a fleeting thought that he should have been more frightened, because Harry had the strength to do him a lot of damage, and even a thoughtless bite could lead to a lot of pain and mess on Draco’s part.  That thought disappeared with the feeling of hot skin draping over his back as Harry attacked him in the best way, arms snaking around Draco’s torso and grabbing tight.  Thanks to Draco’s goading, Potter wasted no more time fooling around: as soon as Draco was on hands and knees and a bit more lube had been hastily grabbed to slick him up, the Vamp was driving into his blond-haired partner.  Both of them let out little cries of pleasure, unable to help it, bodies shuddering.  

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Harry gasped.  His hands spasmed around where they’d migrated to Draco’s hips, then tightened nearly bruisingly in a way that made Draco moan again and wonder if he had a pain-kink.  

His body still adjusting from the swift entry but quickly becoming abuzz with deep, hot pleasure, Draco breathed out slowly and leaned his head down onto his crossed forearms before answering breathily, “Are you complaining, Potter?”

“No,” the other young man grunted, leaning back but still doing an admirable job of keeping his hips still.  There was something like humor slipping in as Harry added, “Although I might be fishing for a compliment about how big I am.”

Draco snorted against his forearms but also shot back in kind, “Haven’t you heard, Potter?  It’s not about size - it’s what you do with it.  Now, are you waiting for me to get old?”

Harry’s low chuckle was a beautiful, dark noise, and he didn’t sound the slightest bit obeisant as he murmured, “Yes, _sir_ ,” and rolled his hips once before pulling out and slamming back in.  

They were both so turned on by that point that even sub-par sex would have been good enough, but Potter more than rose to Draco’s challenge, and if anyone else had thought to stay in over Christmas Eve, they’d have had quite a lot of noise to deal with.  Draco started to truly feel the inhuman strength hidden in Harry’s lithe frame, in each powerful thrust and in the hands gripping him tightly enough to bruise.  Draco clutched at the sheets, panting open-mouthed and feeling his euphoria ratcheting higher and higher not only with each stroke across his prostate, but with each reminder that Potter could break him but was making him feel like a shooting star instead.  The constant flutter of almost-fear wasn’t something that Draco would have expected liking, because what most people called him in day-to-day life was a control-freak, and right now he was definitely not pulling the strings anymore.  Potter was pulling _all_ of his strings, and as the dark-haired youth played Draco like a violin, they both shouted and swore their way into a climax that left them seeing white.  

It took Draco a few moments to come back down enough to realize that Harry had climaxed with him, and was currently draped over him where they’d both collapsed onto the bed.  The way Potter was still gasping for breath was damn hot, and when Draco summoned enough muscle control to clench around his partner’s softening cock one more time, Harry’s squeaking whine was intensely gratifying, too.  Not caring for a moment that he had come all over himself and that his bed was an absolute mess with it, Draco relaxed, too high on endorphins to be bothered when Harry pulled out and slid his weight off.  Instead of getting up and leaving, however, as Draco expected, the Vampire merely made himself comfortable against Draco’s back and left side, between him and the wall.  

“Is now the part where you tell me to leave?” Harry grunted without rancor.

Draco thought about it, insomuch as he felt like thinking.  After a long, lazy pause in which he let his eyes wander along the discarded trail of clothing, he replied, “I don’t care what you do, Potter.  Stay, if you like.  Just let me bloody enjoy this.”

“Works for me.”  Surprisingly, after a little pause that Draco felt through their still-touching skin, Harry bent forward to place a little kiss to the back of Draco’s neck, before falling back against the sheets.  Shifting around a little to get comfortable, Draco watched as Potter reached around with his boxer-shorts (one of the few articles of clothing to somehow still be on the bed, it seemed) to haphazardly clean up the worst of the mess they’d made.  Inwardly pleased, Draco said nothing, settling down docilely with every intention of letting this post-coital pleasure carry him into sleep.  If Potter wanted to stay, who was he to kick him out after sex that good?  

One thought kept him awake, though.  “Potter, why did you come back anyway?  Everyone else is out partying the night away in Hogsmeade.”  

Draco could hear and feel Potter making himself comfortable in the nest of blankets behind him, one arm ending up lazily draped over Malfoy’s middle.  “Maybe I didn’t find what I wanted out there.”

The blond-haired young man snorted.  “Oh really?  Does elevator sex with Tom Riddle not count?”  

Harry was closer than Draco had thought; his exhale puffed against his nape, and as Draco tensed slightly in surprise, he felt Harry duck his head as if to hide it there from the golden lamplight.  It was surprisingly endearing, like an owl avoiding the day.  “Maybe it doesn’t,” was the vaguely rebellious reply that made Draco blink, caught off-guard and perplexed as to how to respond.  Fortunately, Harry didn’t push it, and he made a surprisingly comfortable bed-partner now that he was contented and quiet.  Deciding not to think about what Harry Potter did and did not want - and how Draco fit into those categories - Malfoy reached out to turn off the lamp.  Even though that removed the light from the room, the darkness was broken by what looked like fireworks outside.  

Draco glanced at his bedside clock.  “It’s Christmas,” he murmured.  

Harry just hummed against his vertebrae, half-asleep, and cuddled closer.  Draco reflected that they probably were both smeared with glitter from the Brimstone Club by this point, and rolled his eyes at how impossible that would be to completely get off.

The rest of his thoughts about Harry Potter were equally impossible: rebellious Pureblood, famous and unique Turned Vampire with a surprisingly good handle on his strength, party-hound, sex-fiend… and cuddler who felt the desire to stay the night with one Draco Malfoy on Christmas Eve.

~^~

 

**Author's Note:**

> On a random note, I have no idea who sired Tom or Harry... or even if it's the same Vamp... World-building for another day ;)


End file.
